Who Knew?
by fullmetalgrigori
Summary: "If someone had told Ron Weasley in first year that he would end up marrying Hermione Granger, he would have punched them in the face." Various pairings throughout their Hogwarts years.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This idea popped into my head months ago and sat around on my computer until I decided to finish it today. The inspiration originally came from a line in Pink's, "Who Knew?" **

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><p>Who Knew?<p>

If someone had told Ron Weasley in first year that he would end up marrying Hermione Granger, he would have punched them in the face.

For surely anyone wishing him well would not have said such a thing. Ron disliked Hermione the moment he laid eyes on her. She had that arrogant, "I'm-better-than-you" air about her, reminding Ron of all the expectations set upon him.

You see, Ron was thoroughly undistinguishable from his family.

Bill was Head Boy, and by far the coolest sibling. He was a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts, a dangerous and mysterious profession. He sported a daring ponytail and earring. He was also able to successfully fend Mum off regarding said ponytail and earring.

Charlie came a close second to Bill, both in age and in success. Charlie was Quidditch captain in his day, and a very good one at that. He now worked with dragons in Romania, a dangerous and impressive profession.

Ron was not very worried about living up to Percy, as he seemed a bit too uptight. But he was already a prefect and seemed to be a likely candidate for Head Boy. He was also sure to receive a respectable position in the Ministry once he graduated, something Ron was sure he could never do.

What Fred and George lacked in grades, they more than made up for in street smarts. Their penchant for trouble was legendary. They were admired by legions of students and everyone was sure they had bright futures ahead of them.

Ron was next, and he had no particular flair for magic, even though he had yet to receive formal training. He wasn't edgy, like Bill; risky, like Charlie; uptight, like Percy; trouble-making, like the twins; or female, like Ginny (for he knew his mother had so desperately wanted a girl when Ron was born, despite how deep she hid it). In short, he needed to find some way to distinguish himself from the rest of his family, and at this rate, he really wasn't sure what he'd have to do to be different.

This Hermione Granger girl, standing in the compartment door looking down her nose at him like that, reminded him of all that he was expected to be. And he didn't like it.

Here she was, standing here, criticizing him on his attempt of a spell. He burned with embarrassment when he realized that the spell George had given him was false. He glanced over at his new friend, hoping against hope that he wouldn't think badly of Ron. Thankfully, he didn't seem to care one way or another.

His dislike for this bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl grew as she continued to speak with that bossy, know-it-all tone. She even had the nerve to point out the dirt on his nose that his mother had been so relentless in trying to remove. She treated him like a child, the one thing he was trying to escape from.

And she continued forcing her knowledge upon others. She'd shoot her hand up in the air and wiggle frantically back and forth, as if trying to prove to everyone that she knew more than them. He finally snapped when she tried to pretentiously correct his spell pronunciation. He hadn't even been saying it that badly.

He tore her apart viciously in front of his friends, but when she pushed past him, sobbing, he felt a soft stab of remorse.

But he still was not a fan of Harry's plan to find her with a troll on the loose. He was never as scared as when he stared straight at that troll, trying to think of a plan to save all their skins. His mind focused on the first spell he could think of; the one they'd learned earlier that day. She caught on immediately, and in a more gentle tone, helped him through the motion of the spell. To his astonishment, it had actually worked. The troll was out of commission, and they had escaped unscathed.

Later that evening, he found her to apologize. He was sorry for what he'd said, and he was grateful for her help. They became friends of sorts.

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><p>If someone had told Ron Weasley in second year that he would end up marrying Hermione Granger, he would have laughed.<p>

Yes, they were friends now, but he was twelve. In his mind, girls still had cooties (he always a bit slow to mature).

She was bloody helpful with homework and her quick thinking could always get them out of a fix, but she was still a buck-toothed, bushy-haired girl.

Not someone he wanted to kiss.

But then, she was Petrified. Suddenly, Ron became hyper-aware of her presence in his life. No one was there to help with assignments, no one was shooting her hand up in class to answer a question, and no one was there to help them figure out what the bloody hell was attacking everyone.

He missed her. A lot.

And so when the opportunity arose for him to help her, even if it meant following a trail of spiders, he took it. He wanted her back.

As he sat by her bed in the hospital wing, his eyes fixed on her pale, unmoving face, he felt something constrict in his chest. He'd taken her for granted, had always assumed she'd be there to help.

But then she wasn't. And he didn't like it.

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><p>If someone had told Ron Weasley in third year that he would end up marrying Hermione Granger, he would have scoffed.<p>

How could they, he'd ask, when they weren't even in speaking terms? They'd had a huge row about Scabbers and Crookshanks, and now each was refusing to talk to the other.

At first, he really had been angry with her. He'd told her multiple times to control her cat, to keep him from Scabbers, but she hadn't listened. And now his faithful pet was missing.

But as the days passed, he found himself missing her. It was not unlike the time in second year when she'd been Petrified. But now she was ignoring him and not speaking to him on _purpose_.

That hurt.

He was so relieved when they'd started talking again. Her sudden hug had baffled him. But he liked the feeling of her in his arms, something that had surprised him.

And watching her smack Malfoy…Ron began to realized what a fiery spirit she had. He'd always wondered what made her a Gryffindor, and seeing her hit someone—he'd begun grasp just how strong and brave she really was.

Then Scabbers had turned out to be Peter Pettigrew, the man who'd betrayed Harry's parents. All of a sudden he felt a surge of gratitude toward Crookshanks, along with a vain wish that the cat had caught the stinking rat. He wanted to apologize to her, but he didn't.

Because he didn't like to be wrong.

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><p>If someone had told Ron Weasley in fourth year that he would end up marrying Hermione Granger, he would have been skeptical.<p>

Sure, he liked her. She was his friend. But then Krum had to go and ask her to the Yule Ball.

He wasn't really sure why he reacted the way he did. He thought for sure he would end up going with Hermione. Her rejection stung. Yeah, he'd been a little tactless in his invitation, but she didn't have to lie to him.

But she wasn't lying. She'd shown up on his idol's arm. And she'd been happy. He'd watched her smile and dance and laugh. She was having a good time. Without him.

And then he'd had to lash out at her. He felt a savage pleasure in making her hurt the way he was, but a small part of him died with each word. He was pushing her away, and closer to Krum.

As often as he'd reflected and pondered, he wasn't sure why he hated the idea of Hermione with him. It shouldn't bother him.

But it did.

But now she was angry with him and there was no way they would ever be going back to the way they were.

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><p>If someone had told Ron Weasley in fifth year that he would end up marrying Hermione Granger, he would have remained silent.<p>

Because really, how do you respond to a statement like that?

Okay, so maybe, _maybe_, he liked her. A little. She'd matured throughout the years and was curvier than she had been previously. Her hair was not bushy so much as wavy now, and her smaller teeth flattered her quite a bit. She'd also started to exercise slight control over her burning need to answer every single question.

In short, Hermione Granger was attractive.

But he was only her best friend. He wasn't someone she would like. Tall, gangling, flaming red hair…who would like him?

But he retained a small hope every time she looked at him, or smiled at him, hell, even when she told him off a part of him desperately wished that she would one day look at him in a different light.

But marriage? How could that be, when he could hardly even admit to himself what he was feeling?

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><p>If someone had told Ron Weasley in sixth year that he would end up marrying Hermione Granger, he would have smiled.<p>

Everything would turn out all right, then. He wouldn't be with Lavender anymore. The day after he'd snogged her, he'd begun to regret it. She clung to him like the Giant Squid, never letting him out of her sight.

He knew his relationship was killing Hermione. He could see it every day when she looked at him. There was well-disguised hurt and anger in her brown eyes, buried deep enough that he wasn't really sure he'd actually seen it.

But he couldn't shake Lavender. Even though he didn't want to be with her, he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't like to hurt people.

But then Hermione started to rub McLaggen in his face. He felt like an ice-cold dagger had been plunged between his shoulder blades. Maybe this was how she felt whenever he was with Lavender.

He couldn't blame her for being angry.

When he'd been poisoned, he'd dreamed about her. What life might be like if he could hold her, kiss her…

Things with Lavender fell apart after his release from the hospital wing. He wasn't too broken up about that, to be honest.

But things with Hermione didn't go anywhere. Every time he thought about telling her how he felt, his palms began to sweat and his ears turned red.

No, he decided, better to wait and see how things turn out.

But he still couldn't forget the smell of the Amortentia: Ink, parchment, and new books.

Who else could it have been?

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><p>If someone had told Ron Weasley in seventh year (or what would have been their seventh year) that he would end up marrying Hermione Granger, he would have said he'd known it all along.<p>

There were moments of doubt, though, in that forest. Wearing that locket had been torture. Riddle had kept whispering in his ear, pointing out every gesture and moment between Harry and Hermione, and blowing it way out of proportion. He'd left in a jealous rage, and as soon as he'd left, he'd wanted to go back.

But he couldn't. He was stuck between places, not being able to go home or rejoin his friends.

Then he'd found his way back, but she'd been furious at him. She hit him and yelled and screamed at him. How could he redeem himself in her eyes? It seemed impossible.

But he did. He wasn't sure how, but suddenly they were okay. And then she was taken from him.

Hearing her scream in Malfoy Manor ripped him apart. He was frantic, would've taken her place in a second if he could have.

But then they escaped, and everything seemed okay again. They grew closer at Shell Cottage as he comforted her. He thought something might have happened between them, but they had to plan Gringotts.

Then Hogwarts came. Harry had dashed off somewhere, and he'd started thinking. How would they destroy this next Horcrux? They'd ventured down to the Chamber of Secrets and retrieved basilisk fangs. Hermione had destroyed the cup, which hadn't been easy.

It fought back.

Ron was eerily reminded of the locket when a grotesque version of himself rose from the cup. It sneered at her and ridiculed her, asking how she ever thought he would love her. He wanted to kick the cup aside and gather her into her arms, protesting that he did, he did. But before he'd gotten the chance she'd stabbed it. She gathered up fangs and pushed past him, out of the Chamber.

He wanted so badly to tell her how he felt, but she wasn't in the mood for talking. Then they'd met Harry and shown him the mangled remains of the Horcrux.

What happened next would always be burned into his memory. He'd brought up the house-elves, had suggested relocating them for their safety (if you were friends with Hermione long enough, her cause became your too). Before he could register what was really happening, Hermione was kissing him.

She was kissing him. He'd immediately dropped whatever it was he'd holding (he could no longer remember who he was or what he was doing) and kissed her back, holding her close and pouring years of repressed emotion into it.

He loved her. And he wanted her to know that.

Years later, Ron would always say that he knew they were meant to be. No matter what anyone else seemed to think.

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><p><strong>AN: Not as long as I wanted it to be. Oh well. What do you think? Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow…I got a lot more feedback than I thought I would. I also had a lot of people request Hermione's POV, and who I am to refuse?**

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><p>If someone told Hermione Granger in first year that she would end up marrying Ronald Weasley, she would have laughed hysterically.<p>

That would only be to cover up the tears. Because Ron Weasley _hated_ her. He took any excuse to pick on her and make her feel miserable.

When she received her Hogwarts letter (and Professor McGonagall had shown up to explain it), she'd been confused at first. She was a girl of logic (even at eleven) and logically, this world shouldn't exist. But she thought long and hard about the strange events that had plagued her throughout her childhood, usually involving freak accidents happening to schoolyard bullies, and she came to the conclusion that this world was _real_.

Then came the excitement. She could do things no else she knew could! She absorbed the information she read from her new books like a sponge, desperate to learn as much as she could.

She learned that she was a Muggle-born, and with new nugget of knowledge came the anxiety. There were those that thought people of her lineage were inferior. They thought she had no right to learn magic.

Well…she would just have to prove them wrong, wouldn't she? So she memorized her textbooks, attempted all the spells she thought she could pull off.

The ride to Hogwarts did not go as well as she'd planned. She'd helped a boy named Neville locate his toad, and in the middle of her task she'd found herself in a compartment with two boys her age. One of them was the infamous Harry Potter, a skinny, quiet boy who was quite unlike anything she'd imagined.

And the other…well, she wasn't quite sure what to make of him. He attempted a spell that failed dismally (she wasn't even sure it was a real spell, to be honest), and she'd merely pointed that out. He'd gotten snappy with her, which irritated her. She'd just been trying to help. She'd left and hoped she'd never have to see him again.

But Fate can be a cruel thing. He was in all her classes, and took even the slightest excuse to mock her. She was just trying to prove herself. She wanted everyone to know that she belonged here, without a doubt. And he was taunting her for it.

One day, she snapped. She'd tried to help him in Charms, and he'd started teasing her mercilessly in front of his friends. She dashed to the bathroom and spent the rest of the days sobbing in a stall (missing most of her classes, which should be an indicator of how upset she'd been). And just when she'd calmed down enough to leave, a troll was standing there, staring down at her with its beady little eyes. So she'd done the only thing she could think of.

She'd screamed at the top of her lungs and ducked beneath a sink.

Two boys had burst in the bathroom, and one of them was the last person she'd wanted to see. They'd distracted it for a bit, but suddenly Harry was around its neck and looked like he might fall off at any moment.

Ron had lifted his wand and almost immediately, Hermione knew what he was going to do. At risk of being snapped at again, she'd locked eyes with him and showed him the motion for Levitating.

To her immense relief, it had worked. The troll was unconscious and they were safe. And even better, Ron had apologized to her. He didn't tease her so maliciously after that (though the occasional good-natured jab was thrown in), and they were friends.

Funny how a life-threatening incident can do that.

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><p>If someone had told Hermione Granger in second year that she would end up marrying Ronald Weasley, she would have been confused.<p>

Because really, how would that ever happen? They were friends. That's it. Ron still teased her sometimes and occasionally got on her nerves (okay, so maybe more than occasionally). How could that evolve to marriage?

But she would be the first to admit that they were on better terms than last year. She liked to believe that they were good friends (Harry and Ron were her only true friends, really). She even knew that Ron had visited her in the hospital wing before Madame Pomfrey told her. She couldn't explain it, but she knew that Harry and Ron were there.

She assumed it must have been because she was witch. She could _feel_ their presence. She couldn't see them, as her gaze was fixed straight at the ceiling and was a little fuzzy from staring at the same crack for days at a time, but she knew they were there.

Of course, this didn't satisfy her, just _feeling_. She wanted hard evidence. She'd combed book after book, but none had mentioned any Petrification victims being able to sense their surroundings, so just _feeling_ would have to work.

She felt so much better when they were there. She didn't feel as lonely when they sat next to her, talking. Her hearing was also a little fuzzy, so everything sounded like a garbled mess. But their voices got all excited and she swore she felt someone touching the hand clutched around the page they so desperately needed.

But she also swore that she could feel someone touching her other hand. It was a softer, more comforting brush and that one little contact relaxed her (well, as much as one could relax when Petrified). It wasn't Harry, because she knew he was the one to discover the paper ball in her hand. So it must have been Ron who'd grabbed her hand.

If a Petrification victim could have blushed, she would have.

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><p>If someone had told Hermione Granger in third year that she would end up marrying Ronald Weasley, she would have smacked them.<p>

Because Ronald was such an irritating prat; why would she _marry_ him? And who in their right mind thought it was funny to tell her that?

He was being a complete prick about his rat. He always complained about it, but as soon as it was in peril, he treated it like the greatest love of his life.

Hermione didn't feel sorry for Scabbers, honestly. She'd suspected Crookshanks was not like other cats, so she'd looked it up. She'd found out that Crookshanks was half-Kneazle. Kneazles could detect untrustworthy people (or animals, apparently), so Hermione wasn't all that broken up when Scabbers went missing. She'd always had a funny feeling about that rat.

But Ron was not going to place the blame fully on her cat. Crookshanks had been through so much; it was unfair of Ron to relentlessly persecute him. And whenever she tried to defend her pet, Ron went berserk on her, blowing up at anything she said. Even when she was talking to Harry, he'd twist her words around back to their row.

Those weeks were some of the loneliest of her life.

Then Scabbers turned out to be an Animagus; the man who'd sold out James and Lily Potter. She and Ron were on good terms again, and everything seemed alright.

When Ron received Pig from Sirius Black, he'd held the minute owl out for Crookshanks to inspect. To her, this was a better apology than any spoken words.

Although a spoken apology would have been nice.

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><p>If someone had told Hermione Granger in fourth year that she would end up marrying Ronald Weasley, she would have blushed.<p>

To tell you the truth, the idea didn't repulse her as much as in years previous. But everything was in such utter chaos, how could that ever have a chance of happening?

It had all started with that blasted Yule Ball. She'd always scoffed at adolescent drama; at least, until she was stuck in the middle of the most bizarre love triangle ever concocted.

She'd never really paid Viktor Krum much attention until he asked her to the ball. She was flattered he'd noticed her, and she hadn't anticipated another invitation, so she accepted.

Then stupid Ron Weasley had to ask her a week later. And while it was a rather tactless invite, it was an invite nonetheless. She'd felt her heart swoop unpleasantly before her temper had flared and she'd snapped at him. She couldn't believe he thought she was lying, and that made her madder. Serve him right, realizing that she wouldn't always be there.

The Yule Ball had been something like a dream. She couldn't really believe all this was happening to _her_, the bookish, bushy-haired girl (though she'd spent hours taming her frizzy locks). She'd had such a good time, and Viktor was the perfect gentleman, it was almost too good to be true.

She should've known it wouldn't last.

She knew Ron had been stewing in a corner all night, and she felt a vengeful happiness when she saw the sour expression on his face. But then he'd had to open his stupid mouth and ruin her entire night. Every word stabbed her through the heart.

She'd cried herself to sleep that night.

If he'd only admitted that yes, he really did want to go to the ball with her, everything might have been sorted out. But he had to retain his mulish disposition.

Sometimes she wasn't sure whether to kiss him or smack him.

Sometimes she wanted to do both.

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><p>If someone had told Hermione Granger in fifth year that she would end up marrying Ronald Weasley, she would have stared out the window wistfully.<p>

Because she had to admit, the thought of kissing Ron sent shivers up and down her spine. Not that she'd admit it to anyone. He was still tall and gangling, but that was part of who he was. Imagining a short, stocky Ron was like imagining…well, he'd just look like Charlie or the twins. But he just wouldn't be _Ron._ And the red hair? It was who he was.

If she really wanted to be totally honest with herself, she came up with the idea of the DA to impress Ron. Of course, that was only a fractional part of it. She really couldn't stand that Umbridge woman.

But Ron always teased her about following the rules, all the time. She wanted to prove him wrong, show him she could rebel. She wanted him to see a different side of her.

Plus, she really couldn't stand that Umbridge woman.

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><p>If someone had told Hermione Granger in sixth year that she would end up marrying Ronald Weasley, she would have burst into tears.<p>

Because it wasn't funny to joke about that. He was with _her_ and he really didn't seem to care about how she felt about the whole thing.

And after she'd helped him! She got him the position on the team that got him _her_. It didn't seem fair…

But life wasn't fair. He'd taught her that.

When she saw _her_ tangled up in a chair with him, she'd snapped. He had the ability to do that to her.

She'd fled, taking refuge in an empty classroom. Harry had come to comfort her, and his cluelessness cheered her slightly. But then he'd shown up with _her_ in tow, and she really couldn't help herself. She'd set the birds on him.

Then came the day when she learned he'd been poisoned. She'd fallen apart, unable to speak or do anything except wait to see him. She'd sat faithfully by his side, which is more than what _she'd_ done. When he'd uttered her name, she'd felt a surge of vicious pleasure at the look on _her_ face. Ron was hers. He always had, and he always would be.

Those two little words he'd spoken ended his relationship. She'd hoped and waited, but nothing had happened.

Ron Weasley did nothing.

But she would always remember the Amortentia: Freshly mown grass, new parchment, and Ron Weasley's hair.

She would bet top dollar that _she_ couldn't smell that. And Hermione Granger was not a betting girl.

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><p>If someone had told Hermione Granger in seventh year (or what should have been their seventh year) that she would end up marrying Ronald Weasley, she would have smiled.<p>

Because it was obvious, really. Who could have thought otherwise?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't so obvious throughout the year. She was convinced that something would happen at the Burrow, but they just ended up dancing around each other, picking their words oh-so-carefully.

He always understood her better than anyone. He could say the exact words needed to calm her down and reassure her. They'd actually fallen asleep holding hands that first night at Grimmauld Place. She'd been so worried and broken up over her parents, and he'd reached over and clasped her small, gentle hand in his larger, calloused one.

She'd never gotten such a good night's sleep.

But…it all fell apart. They had to wear that blasted locket, and while it did make her more irritable, it affected Ron the most. She'd catch him watching her and Harry, a furious jealousy etched on his features. She could hardly recognize him when he wore it.

One day he'd had enough. He'd yelled and accused, reducing her to tears. He'd told her to choose. And as much as she wanted to leave with him, she couldn't leave Harry to collect Horcruxes on his own.

So she stayed. And wondered if she'd done the right thing every single waking moment.

As the weeks progressed, she grew bitter. He must not care anything for her, if he left her in a split second. She conveniently forgot his jealous words and hurt expression.

As if he had never left, he returned. And the prat expected a hearty welcome, as if he'd never forced her to choose.

As if he'd never left at all.

Hermione Granger was not that kind of girl. She snapped. She wanted to hit him. _Hard_.

And hit him she did. She struck every inch of him she could reach. And then the prat had the nerve to suck up to her! He agreed with every single thing she said, trying desperately to get back in her good graces. She hated it.

Though it really was sort of flattering.

Malfoy Manor. The only thing that let her look back on that memory was Ron's shouts, pleading with their captors. Let him take her place, torture him. Anything. Just don't hurt her.

His voice steeled her resolve, let her lie under torture.

At Shell Cottage, he was what healed her. He'd never left her side; he'd stayed with her constantly. His soothing tone and comforting touch calmed her panic, ceased her nightmares.

He was what got her through Gringotts, got her through being that horrible woman. He was there. He always would be.

But it was the Battle of Hogwarts that would push them together. Harry had just run off when she'd turned to Ron, asking how they were going to destroy it, even if they did find it?

His eyes had lit up. He'd led her to the Chamber of Secrets, explaining about the basilisk. He'd gotten them in, found the skeleton. She'd pulled a fang from the remains of the giant snake, and turned in surprise when he'd told her to destroy it.

It was her turn.

She'd steeled herself and taken a deep breath, preparing herself. But as soon as the fang started to descend, the cup had exploded. A cloud of slimy smoke twisted and writhed over the Horcrux. A grotesque caricature of Ron had taken form in the cloud, sneering down at her. He'd laughed and teased her, reminding her of the insults he'd thrown first year. How could a boy like that ever love her?

Anti-Ron asked her how she thought he would care for her. He didn't love her, he only put up with her because she was useful. She did his work for him. That's the only reason he kept her around.

Liquid rage boiled through her veins, and she slammed the fang into the cup, finding a visceral pleasure in its last scream.

She turned to find Ron staring at her, opening his mouth to say something. But she pushed past him, not wanting to hear anything he had to say.

They'd finally found Harry and had explained about the fangs. She couldn't help admire what Ro had done, as it had been very clever.

But it was the house-elves that had done it in the end.

Ron, with a completely serious expression, had suggested evacuating the elves, to prevent any more sacrifice and bloodshed.

That's when she lost it.

She dropped her fangs and threw her arms around his neck, doing the one thing she'd wanted to do since fourth year.

She kissed him.

And he kissed back.

They'd stayed intertwined for a fraction of the time she'd wanted. He seemed reluctant to let her go, and she bit back a grin.

Because nothing could go wrong now.

Years later, Hermione would insist that they were meant to be. Anyone could see that from the day they first met.

But then, hindsight is always more accurate.

But she still liked to think that there was something there from the beginning.

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><p><strong>AN: There's the length I wanted. I always find that Hermione is much easier for me to write. **

**I've had a request for Harry/Ginny next. I will gladly write two more chapters for that pairing if enough people want it. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, it's been decided. Enough people want Ginny/Harry to warrant another two chapters. And I'm sorry to the people who don't like one-shots that suddenly continue, but I had no idea that my one-shot would be so popular. How could I not keep going? I am also very sorry for the wait. Most of this had been written, but I suddenly became very busy and barely had any time to think, let alone write. I got it up, though.**

**Also, I had to skip a couple years in their relationship, because Ginny is barely mentioned in the third and fourth book. That gives me nothing to work with. So, it'll go first, second, fifth, sixth, and seventh. Sorry about the gap, but I wouldn't be able to put anything. **

**Disclaimer: Wishing doesn't equal owning. **

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><p>If someone had told Harry Potter in first year that he would end up marrying Ginevra Weasley, he would have stared blankly.<p>

Because who was this Ginevra person? He didn't know anybody by that name.

Upon being informed that Ginevra was Ron's sister's full name, he would have been wary. He remembered quite clearly her reaction to learning his name. She pleaded with her mum to go see him. She knew him for a feat he really had no control over.

And he hated it.

Everyone would goggle at his forehead when they realized who he was. No matter how much he flattened his fringe, people would always manage to see right through it, as if there was nothing blocking their view of the proof that he had indeed survived the killing curse that had claimed the lives of his parents. Their gaze would be incredulous as they scanned him up and down, completely unaware of the impoliteness of their actions. Harry would fidget as he practically saw the thoughts running through their heads. How could this scrawny, ignorant little boy thwart the most dangerous Dark wizard since Grindelwald himself?

Of course, they weren't normally thinking this, but Harry tended to get carried away when he was thinking pessimistically.

What bothered him the most about these unpleasant encounters was that he knew these people had already heard of him and had formed their own conclusions and assumptions. They didn't seem to take the time to find out more about him. They preferred the Harrys that they'd created, a fictional hero to help them sleep soundly at night.

That's what he was reminded of when he heard Ginny plead with her mum to see him. He tried to remind himself that she didn't know better, that she was only ten, but it was no use. A feeling of dread began to creep up in his stomach.

He had a lot of expectations to live up to.

Little did he know that he would soon take every expectation and surpass them.

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><p>If someone had told Harry Potter in second year that he would end up marrying Ginevra Weasley, he would have snorted.<p>

He really didn't want her to feel bad, but how could he marry her, when she could barely form sentences when he was around?

He wasn't as resentful of her fascination of him as he was last year, and he even thought it funny that she turned red whenever he looked at her. She'd grown up hearing all about him, but now she was actually in his presence. He wondered if he was anything like she'd imagined. He wasn't sure he wanted to know that.

Of course, he almost changed his mind about her with that awful Valentine. What on earth made her think that he'd enjoy a musical poem? He didn't think ill of her for too long, though; for he knew what it felt like to be teased (he'd had enough of that in primary school).

He didn't see much of her during his second year, until she'd been taken. His decision was effortless; he knew where she was and how to get there, why wouldn't he save her?

But he felt nervous and apprehensive as he slowly and quietly made his way to the Chamber. Was he too late? His heart skipped a beat when he saw her lying there, pale and still. She looked like death.

He fought for her that day. Yes, it was also to protect the school Muggleborns and himself, but it was her pale face that pushed him to fight. She was so close to the edge, five minutes and she'd be gone. Forever.

He couldn't let that happen to her.

* * *

><p>If someone had told Harry Potter in fifth year that he would end up marrying Ginevra Weasley, he would have brushed the comment aside.<p>

Because he fancied Cho Chang. He couldn't really see himself being with anybody but her.

Not that he didn't like Ginny. She was a perfectly nice girl, especially now that she was talking to him. But she was Ron's sister. It was an unwritten rule that you didn't even look at your best mate's sister.

But then, everything with Cho sort of fell apart. She had the gall to defend her traitor friend, and to Harry, that was the end.

But he still couldn't really look at Ginny that way. He admired her steely resolve and determination, and feared her just a little for her renown Bat-Bogey Hex, but she was his friend's sister.

Although he supposed she was quickly becoming a friend in her own right.

But a friend only.

…Which didn't explain the weird swooping sensation he felt when Hermione told him that Ginny was over him.

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><p>If someone had told Harry Potter in sixth year that he would end up marrying Ginevra Weasley, he would have choked.<p>

Because how could someone say something like that when Ron was just across the room?

Harry spent most of his time acting like he _did not_, under any circumstance, fancy Ginny. Because really, you didn't go after your best mate's sister.

Which made him sad, really. If things went wrong, Ron would hate him forever, and he certainly wouldn't be welcome back at the Weasley's anytime soon. And even if it went alright, who's to say things wouldn't be terribly awkward between Harry and Ron?

He could not see a winning scenario.

It wasn't as if he would be seeing these scenarios anyway. Ginny was dating Dean. And she seemed very happy with him.

Which drove an even bigger dagger into his heart. He wanted to see her happy, and if it was with Dean, who was he to interfere?

But the side of him the housed the roaring monster would rather see her happy with him. It could happen. Who's to say she didn't still fancy Harry?

Hermione, apparently. She'd told him of Ginny's abated crush, and seemed to be keeping a close eye on him.

He couldn't help but feel that she knew more than she let on.

Which seemed to be a trend with her.

There wasn't any way out of this mess.

And suddenly…there was. She'd broken up with Dean. She was available.

But there was still the Ron problem. Until that obstacle was fixed as well.

It was an impulse, really. There she was, in his arms. He couldn't help himself.

He wasn't sure who moved first, but he liked to think that it was both of them.

It seemed rehearsed, almost. Like they'd been doing this forever. Their eyes closed, their lips met…

He could have stayed like that forever.

* * *

><p>If someone had told Harry Potter in seventh year (or what would have been his seventh year) that he would end up marrying Ginevra Weasley, he would have been worried.<p>

Because how could someone be with him and remain safe? He was Undesirable Number One. He couldn't be with her without putting her life in danger.

And as much as he loved her, he couldn't do that to her.

She came first. And if that meant not being able to see her, or talk to her, or touch her…then so be it.

He'd watch her on his map. Just to make sure she was alright. If she was safe at Hogwarts, he could make himself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out alright.

But she had to go into hiding. She was no longer safe, even when she wasn't with him.

Even when he was across the country, he was still affecting her life.

He could still hurt her.

It was then that he began to believe that he could never be with her.

It was too dangerous. With him being who he was, and her being who she was…it wouldn't work.

This realization brought heartache, but he needed to accept it. She was better without him.

Even with this acceptance, she was what drove him. The thought that maybe one day, when Voldemort and the Death eaters were gone, they could be together.

Maybe they could marry, raise a family, and grow old together.

This future drove him to fight.

And when she came running into his arms (after a severe talking to, mostly regarding his absence and lack of news), he saw this future again.

Not as a possibility. No, he saw this as a certainty.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What do you think? Ginny will be coming as well, and I'll try to update a little more frequently. **

**Also, are there any other pairings people want me to do? If I feel that I can do it justice, I may extend this story. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. This was sitting on my computer for the longest time, and I finally was able to finish today. I hope you enjoy. **

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><p>If someone had told Ginevra Weasley in first year that she would end up marrying Harry Potter, she would have fainted. Or screamed. Or any combination of the two.<p>

Because she loved him. She'd loved him ever since her mother had introduced him in a bedtime story. She'd hung on her mum's every word, drinking in the story of the heroic wizard who had saved the world at the ripe old age of infancy. She'd vowed to marry him that first night. Her brothers had laughed at her for it, but she just bit her tongue. It _would_ happen. She knew it.

Her belief only cemented itself when she first saw him. There was something about the lost, skinny boy who'd stopped her family. He seemed familiar to her, though she'd never laid eyes on him before in her life.

Although maybe she added that feeling after learning that he was really Harry Potter.

She begged her mum to let her meet him. Here was her chance to see, really see, the hero she'd heard so much about! But she was too young, and she would have to wait another year.

Imagine her surprise one summer morning when she descended the stairs to find him sitting at her dining room table. Instead of being charming and funny, like she'd always imagined, her eyes had become the size of dinner plates, and her face turned a shade of bright red that clashed horribly with her hair. She ran upstairs immediately and spent the rest of the day in her room beating herself up about it.

She knew she'd be taking hell about it from her brothers for years.

So she spent the rest of the summer avoiding him. The less contact she had with him, the less possibility of embarrassment.

So she kept her head down at Hogwarts and stayed away. It was easy, considering she was a year younger. She began to grow bored with her classes and work, and she didn't really have anyone to talk to.

Then she discovered Tom.

She'd discovered the diary a week into class, but set it aside. She wasn't one to write in journals. She'd soon grow bored, or would go back and tear out pages she thought sounded annoying.

But one day when she was particularly lonely, she saw the book lying near the bottom of her trunk. She hesitated, then pulled it out. She flipped to a random page and started to write.

And the diary wrote back.

Tom was everything she needed. He gave her advice, calm words to soothe her, and someone to tell everything to. She drew herself away from everyone else and began to depend solely on him.

Them everything started to change.

She'd wake up standing in the middle of the hall with no idea how she got there. She'd check the time to find hours missing from her day. She'd find herself covered in blood and a gap in her memory. Her entries to Tom became more and more frantic. His responses became more and more vague. So she threw him away.

She tried to focus on other things to keep her thoughts away from Tom. She thought of Harry again. In a hurried burst of inspiration, she penned a valentine to him. She never intended to deliver it. The day before, though, she realized that she didn't want to be someone who only ever wrote in a diary and didn't act on anything. In a rare surge of courage, she turned the valentine in.

To her horror, it was delivered in her presence.

She cringed at every word and attempted to edge away from the crowd. Before she could leave, though, she saw something that made her freeze in a panic.

Harry Potter was in possession of her diary. A diary filled to the brim with her secrets and fears, and quite a few entries that contained his name.

She had to get it back.

It barely stung when Malfoy called her out on the valentine. She didn't even see Harry's face when he turned to look at her. She was already running away.

She snuck into his dorm and tore it apart, frantically searching for it. She nearly ripped the diary as she flipped through it.

It was blank.

She let out a sigh of relief. Tom had hidden her words from him. She decided it was best to keep Tom with her, even if she didn't completely trust him.

With his return came more blackouts. She lived in terror, wondering if there was something inside her being released. Was she responsible for the attacks? People were petrified left and right, and there wasn't anything she could do.

Or was there? Harry was being blamed for her possible actions, and he'd already stopped You-Know-Who twice. If anyone was to be told about what was going on, it was him.

So she braced herself and sat next to them one day. She desperately tried to string together what had happened in a way that didn't sound mental. She opened her mouth to begin when Percy barged in and shooed her away.

That was one of the last things she remembered.

She woke up in the Chamber of Secrets. There was a boy there, standing over her body.

"Who are you?"

"You should know me by now, Ginny."

"Tom?" He nodded. "What are you doing?"

"I'm draining the life from you. In a few hours, you'll be dead and I will rise to power."

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out.

When she awoke a second time, Harry was sitting in front of her. She scanned the Chamber, taking in the basilisk and the diary, and finally Harry, who was covered in ink and blood. Harry, who had come to save her.

She broke down in tears. In between sobs she told him what had been happening all year. A part of her was horrified that she was acting hysterical in front of him, but the rest of her didn't really care.

He'd saved her.

* * *

><p>If someone had told Ginevra Weasley in third year that she would end up marrying Harry Potter, she would have pretended not to care.<p>

Because she didn't. She wasn't the timid little girl who could barely talk to him anymore. She was becoming her own person. She made friends, did well in school, even played Quidditch. This last one was not to try and impress Harry, the best Quidditch player the school had seen in years. No, the Quidditch she did on her own. This branching out came after a little advice from Hermione.

"Do you still fancy Harry?" she'd asked suddenly.

Ginny's blush had answered for her.

"I think you should start finding out who you are as a person. Then I think he might notice you. At the very least," she added. "You'll have more fun."

And she did. She found her thoughts drifting to Harry less and less often. She even accepted an invitation to the Yule Ball from Neville…

…Which she soon came to regret. Harry, who had not yet managed to find a date, asked her. For a fraction of a second she considered accepting, then lying to Neville about why she couldn't go with him. But she knew that she could never do that, so she turned Harry down.

She spent the rest of the day in a cranky, depressed state.

Although, boys liked girls who played hard to get.

…Right?

* * *

><p>If someone had told Ginevra Weasley in fourth year that she would end up marrying Harry Potter, she would have scoffed.<p>

Because how could he marry her if he only had eyes for Cho?

Cho wasn't even that pretty. Or smart. She wasn't very good at defensive magic. She was probably only in the DA for Harry.

But Ginny wasn't the girl she was four years ago. And she was going to make sure Harry knew that, dammit.

She dated other blokes. None of them were Harry, and she was reminded of this every time she laid eyes on whoever she was with. But she was determined to have fun and gain experience. She was going to distance herself, so Harry might have the chance to see her as someone other than his best friend's little sister.

She worked hard. She practiced outside of the DA when she could. She wanted to show Harry, and not only Harry, that she was someone to be feared. She wanted her brothers to know that she was not someone to take lightly.

When the time came to help Harry save Sirius, she jumped at it. It was almost fun, casting that Bat Bogey Hex at Malfoy.

…Alright, so it _was_ fun.

She was sure that Harry saw her in a different light that year. She thought he knew that she was a girl who could protect herself.

But he told her to stay at Hogwarts while he went to save the world. She put down her foot and refused. He wasn't going to get himself killed because he was trying to protect her. She didn't need protection, dammit.

It was exhilarating, fighting for her life. The adrenaline pushed aside any doubt and cleared her senses. She knew exactly what needed doing. She'd never felt this clarity before. It made the broken ankle very worth it.

As did knowing that Harry saw her as a force to be reckoned with.

* * *

><p>If someone had told Ginevra Weasley in fifth year that she would end up marrying Harry Potter, she would have tried (and failed) to hide a smile.<p>

Because, really, she shouldn't be thinking something like that when she was dating someone else. Dean was a nice bloke. He treated her well and was a pretty good kisser. She knew she should be perfectly happy with him, but there was one thing that would always be missing.

Dean wasn't Harry.

She tried to forget this. She tried to push him out of her mind and be happy when she was with Dean. And sometimes, it worked. But lying on her bed in her dormitory, late at night, well…the topic inevitably came up.

She didn't want it to. She was sick and tired of pining after a bloke who saw her as nothing more than his best friend's sister. But she couldn't help it. So she just ignored what she felt and hoped it went away.

Then came the episode in the alcove.

Dean had pulled her aside in the hall for a quick snog after particularly bad Quidditch practice one day. She had allowed him to led her behind the tapestry and had settled into his arms comfortably.

That is, until her brother and the bloke she fancied burst into the passageway.

She knew Ron wouldn't be happy. Predictably, he'd exploded, calling her names and reprimanding her (as if he had any right to be doing so). Bu Harry…his expression had been unexpected.

She'd seen the shock and disbelief. That hadn't surprised her. But there was a look of intense dislike that had appeared on his face. She didn't know what to think of it. Had it been aimed at her? Did he agree with every word her brother was saying?

That expression occupied her thoughts for weeks.

A silly part of her hoped that the look had been for Dean. Harry had definitely been acting cooler toward his year mate. But then, that might have been her imagination.

He certainly had been acting cooler towards her. She tried to hug him after one Quidditch match, but he'd released her quickly. Did he think lesser of her since he'd caught her snogging with Dean?

She pretended like nothing had happened, and he didn't say anything. Still, her thoughts were once again consumed by Harry, and her relationship suffered for it. She noticed everything Dean did that she disliked. He tried to help her with the simplest things, and her independence chafed at it. She wasn't happy.

Dean noticed her distance, and tried to keep a firmer grasp on their dying relationship. She finally had to call it off.

She felt much freer after the end of that relationship, but she also felt lost. What was she supposed to do now?

She found her answer after the Quidditch House cup. She hadn't meant to rush up to Harry when he stepped through the portrait hole. But the rush of adrenaline from the game was still lingering in her system. She felt bold. She felt invincible.

As she stood in front of him, staring right into his eyes, she saw it. She knew his look. It'd been jealousy. Because he'd wanted to kiss her that night.

And if her instincts were correct, he was going to right now.

She wasn't sure who moved first. Was it her, with her Quidditch boldness and newfound freedom? Or him, with his jealousy and perfect opportunity?

It didn't matter, in the end.

What mattered was that their lips met and everything fell perfectly into place.

* * *

><p>If someone had told Ginevra Weasley in sixth year that she would end up marrying Harry Potter, she would have laughed.<p>

Not out of derision, or genuine humor. No, she would have laughed out of sheer joy. Because that meant he was coming home to her. He was alive, and he was going to find her.

She hated living like this. Going through each day wondering where he was, if he was all right, if every student in Hogwarts would be called into the Great Hall to hear an announcement that Harry Potter was dead. Her nerves were shot, but she wouldn't let anyone know. You couldn't show weakness at Hogwarts. The Carrows were like vultures, feeding on any scrap of panic they could induce. No, she held her head high. She followed Neville as he resurrected and led the new DA. Underneath her worry and anxiety was an undercurrent of anger and rebellion. It was who she was. She couldn't lie down and spend her days worrying. She had the power to do something…so she did it.

But then her parents were forced to go into hiding, and she didn't even have the DA to distract her from her fears. She tried to busy herself at Aunt Muriel's house, but there was only so much to be dome. Most of her days were spent holed up in her room, staring at the window. She chafed at her inability to help. She wanted to _do_ something.

So when the call came out that something was happening at Hogwarts, when her fake Galleon started burning in her hand, she wouldn't take no for an answer. She forced her brothers to take her along to Hogsmeade and through the portrait hole. She stumbled a little as she emerged, but then she looked up and he was there. He was standing right in front of her, looking shaggy and unkempt, but he was still Harry. Her Harry. She wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms and never leave his side, but she knew that now was not the time. They would have time later. She pushed aside any errant thoughts that suggested otherwise. She was here, and she could fight.

But she was underage, and her mother refused to let her fight. She screamed, she pleaded, she did everything. But her stubbornness had come from the woman opposing her, and she wouldn't back down. She was left behind again while everyone she loved was out fighting for their lives. It wasn't fair.

So when Harry told her to clear out, she did so gladly. She wanted to stay with him, but she also knew that he wouldn't tell anyone what he needed to do. Instead, she turned and ran into the fray and toward their last chance at a peaceful future. She threw and dodged curses as adrenaline pumped through her veins. Time lost all meaning, and all she knew were colored flashes of light and the screams of battle. And then…it was all over. There was a break in the fighting. She almost dared to feel optimistic.

But she walked into the Great Hall and saw her brother lying on the floor, eyes closed in a way that would suggest sleep. Except Fred never looked that pale, and there was only one reason someone would look that way here. Her brother was dead. And everything she knew fell away and she was lost in an ocean of grief. Nothing else mattered in this world. How could it, when Fred was lost forever? She would never see him smile, never hear that infectious laugh, never receive a warm hug from him again.

Her grief soon dissolved into anger. This was Voldemort's fault. His actions had resulted in her brother's death. If Harry didn't kill him, she would. But then she took a look at all the students still straggling into the hall, and she pushed aside all her emotion. There were those that needed her help.

She found a small girl sitting on the steps outside. She crouched down and put an arm around her shoulders. She rubbed her arm gently and spoke to her softly. She told her everything would be al right, even though she knew that no matter how this turned out, that would never be true. She felt a strange prickling on the back of her neck, and turned around. No one was there, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. So she turned back to the girl and led her inside the Hall.

She was beginning to feel a little better. Harry could beat him. He'd done it before; she knew he could do it again.

But they were called outside with the approach of the Death Eaters. She could see Hagrid carrying a small lump in his arms, and while her brain knew exactly who it was, her heart refused to listen. But he was dumped onto the ground, and Voldemort's words confirmed it. The man she loved was dead. It took all of her father's strength to keep her from running to his side. She was once again lost in grief. She wanted nothing more than the deaths of every person in front of her. She wanted justice. She wanted vengeance.

But most of all, she wanted him back. She wanted Harry.

It seemed that everyone around her felt the same. They rebelled, they broke Voldemort's magic. Even Neville, whom no one expected much of years before. He pulled the sword of Gryffindor and slew Voldemort's snake. And with that, the greatest symbol of Voldemort himself was slain, and all hell broke loose.

Ginny went straight for Bellatrix. She was no fool to go straight for Voldemort (well, that and three teachers were already battling him). But she would satisfy herself with his second-in-command.

It was the hardest duel she'd ever fought. She knew she was outmatched. She didn't care. If she was defeated…well, at least she'd be seeing Fred and Harry again. She almost joined them, too, as a bolt of green light passed close enough to ruffle her hair.

She felt a jolt as her mother pushed her aside. "Not my daughter, you bitch!" she cried, and the duel resumed. Ginny watched in amazement as her mother dueled at a skill equal to Bellatrix. Then, a curse broke through her defense, and Bellatrix toppled to the floor, dead.

She felt triumph rise in her throat, and she turned to find another opponent. But what she found amazed her.

A giant shield charm appeared from nowhere, cutting Voldemort off from everyone else. And in that moment, Ginny witnessed a miracle.

Harry appeared from nowhere, very much alive.

And from then on, all she could hear was her pulse pounding in her ears and all she could feel was a wild joy. And when Voldemort fell to the floor, very much deceased, she was the first to move. She ran faster than she ever had in her life, and she threw her arms around Harry, determined to never, ever let go.

And she's remained by his side ever since.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review and tell me what you think!**


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